Chapter 30 - The King Has Come Home II (CF)
The SS Mahruav set off north toward Gusty Gulch after the ParaClubbas who were to come along boarded. They spoke much like Juranils, who herself had come along, in throaty, gargling accents. Tubba could sense the doubt of his crewmates as he returned with the ten ParaClubbas. Although many had been interested in the lost ParaClubban ancestry of the Clubbas, Tubba knew that the practicality of the mission had been at an all-time low. The addition of ten more bodies to their cause would not tilt the scales. It had been awe-inspiring to learn the ancestry of the species, and helped Tubba know how important it was that he reclaimed Gusty Gulch, but it would do nothing to actually, physically, help him reclaim Gusty Gulch. He would have to rely on what they had. They had been away from Gusty Gulch for almost four weeks, and it would be another week and a half before they reached there. There was no time to do anything else, not when he worried about his other friends every day. Tubba could hear the rumblings of discontent among the crew, and how it had been such a horrible idea to go south in the first place, and how Tubba had backed himself into a corner with his discussion with Kremstag. They would pass through Kremling waters, so Tubba wondered how Kremstag was doing with his effort to wrest the power from Alm. The answer came obtrusively and unexpectedly. The sounds of explosions reached the ears of the SS Mahruav crew, steadily growing louder the further north they drew. There was no way to properly assess where the noises were coming from, it seemed to be from everywhere, be it slightly eastern or western. The only way they would be able to avoid it would be to turn around and head south, which was no longer an option. A full out naval battle. The green waters, streaked with the twilight light and the fire of the various ships, the battle lines clearly drawn as cannonballs flew from ship to ship, more missing than connecting. Kremlings swerved on the decks of the various ships, their muscled bodies climbing the masts, stringing out the sails, racing to the cannons and firing at the opposing ship. There weren’t many ships, it looked to Tubba that there were six a side. “We need to get out of here,” Tubba shot to the SS Mahruav from the wheel of the ship. To his surprise, none of the crew below seemed to act on his orders, not even the ParaClubbas, who were told to obey his word no matter what by their chief, Serrnus. “Well?” He prompted, when he saw that none of the crew were obeying his orders. “Not worth it,” Juranils rasped out, fluttering her wings to land beside Tubba, not bothering to use the stairs that led up to the wheel. “Look,” she said, pointing with her right wing. Tubba followed the emerald green appendage, seeing what she was pointing at. “There’s no space for us to maneuver through.” Gonzales strode up beside her and nodded. “We’ll have to wait for it to end, or go the other way.” Juranils finished. Tubba wrung his hands, feeling indecision strike him. There was no way they could turn around. But waiting for it to end... he could only settle on one possibility. “We’ll do neither of those. We risk being caught in the crossfire if we linger here,” Tubba turned to the SS Mahruav crew, who had assembled on the deck below. “Juranils,” Tubba waved the ParaClubba over. “Can you take Dibby, Galmajo, Gonzales and I on board one of the ships?” Narrowing his eyes, he looked over the green water toward the ships in conflict. He could recognize one of them - the Kremling ship that had picked him up from the waters next to Rogueport. “That one.” Galmajo strode up the wooden steps to the raised platform where the wheel was kept. “Tubba, you’re not thinking about picking sides, are you?” Tubba fixed him with a glare, causing the yellow-robed Magikoopa to take a step back, and awkwardly wipe his glasses on his robes. “We can’t afford to waste any more time.” Tubba continued after Galmajo’s insubordination had receded. He enjoyed the Magikoopa’s presence, and owed him quite a lot, but sometimes, he couldn’t resist shoving his scaly snout into decisions that should be his. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking of doing. Kremstag will be in that fray. We’re going on his side.” A plan was formulating in his mind. They were joining on Kremstag’s side on their terms - Kremstag would be in their debt if they helped him win now. But the battle had to be won, soon. “You’re joining a battle that’s not yours?” Juranils gave him a skeptical look. “Do you species do this often?” “I won’t leave a friend.” Tubba said firmly, and then he realized he meant it. Kremstag had picked him up out of the waters he would’ve died in. Although Kremstag had abandoned him and thought that Tubba had betrayed him, Tubba one-upped him by completely rejecting to join his fight initially. What would Tubba have done if his friends had turned him down? He would’ve been lost. He owed it to Kremstag, as a friend, as someone who helped him in the past. It was immensely hypocritical to ask for Kremstag’s help... but be unwilling to help him. “Kremstag deserves my help.” “I won’t ask you guys to join me,” Tubba decided, looking to the SS Mahruav. “Stay out of danger. I’ll go on my own.” He waved at Juranils. “I’ll need you to carry me over to his ship, though.” The emerald ParaClubba nodded and flapped her wings at another ParaClubba, gesturing for him to hover in front of Tubba. “You know I’ll always fight by your side,” Gonzales said determinedly, gripping his club tightly. “Where you go, I’ll have your back, Tubba.” Looking into his oldest friend’s dark orange eyes, Tubba had never doubted that Gonzales would waver. He stuck out a red fist, and Gonzales took it, shaking his hand with vigorous determination. “I’m coming too,” Dibby floated beside them. “I doubt the Kremlings are even magical enough to hurt me,” she scoffed, practicing a punch or two with her silvery appendages. “I’m not!” Galmajo confirmed, taking a step back. The Magikoopa placed his wand back in his robes. “It’s not our fight. Tubba, I agreed to come along with you before I realized how insane and dangerous this is,” Galmajo sighed. “I’ll fight with you at Gusty Gulch. But, here, now? No.” “Your choice,” Tubba said, quashing down the hurt he felt. Galmajo would’ve been an asset against the Kremlings, with his excellent magical abilities. “Juranils, let’s go.” He grabbed the legs of the ParaClubbas, and prepared for his feet to leave the deck of the SS Mahruav. Lofting into the air, Tubba felt less fear than the prior time the ParaClubbas had carried him. He felt... exhilaration as the green waters lapped hungrily, far below, as the wind buffeted him upwards to the sun, the fluffy white clouds streaked with pink, putting him at peace. The transit ended too soon, for it felt only seconds when he was dropped off onto the deck of Kremstag’s ship. The fire of battle was prevalent everywhere Tubba looked. Kritters sparred with Kritters, indistinguishable from one other. Tubba realized it would be impossible to pick Alm’s men from Kremstag’s own. “Who do we fight alongside?” Gonzales shouted in Tubba’s internal ear to be heard above the sounds of the clashing Kritters. Tubba pointed the ParaClubban club to scales that he recognized. “There,” he said, recognizing the hulking red shape of Damarus, another one of the Kritters he had worked alongside in Roolkrim. Damarus was overwhelmed, three Kritters, two brown and one yellow, overpowering him with blistering punches and nicks with their spiked maces. “Help the red one!” Tubba shouted to Gonzales, before stepping forward and barring Dibby’s path as she tried to assist Gonzales. “No, you go there!” Roaghis was struggling under a much larger Kritter, the average-sized Kritter battering weakly at the chest of the gray one that was attacking him. “This is my territory, Alm!” A snarl reached Tubba’s ears as he looked for other Kritters he could recognize. Tubba looked up - up the stairs toward the wheel, the familiar brown shape of Kremstag was sparring with a green Kritter. It could only be K. Alm, the son of King K. Rool. As Tubba raced up to the wooden stairs, his feet clunking heavily as he scrambled up to the battle, Kremstag was nailed backwards by a strong punch, sending him falling off the lofted portion and onto the deck below. “No, it’s mi-argh!” Alm’s deep voice snarled back, but it was cut off by a snarl of pain. Tubba had leapt forward, dragging the ParaClubban club’s spikes through the soft green scales of Alm’s tail, marveling at how easy the club responded to him, causing the anthropomorphic crocodile to spin around, claws outstretched. “This isn’t your fight, Clubba!” Alm spat, swiping at Tubba with his left hand. Tubba leapt backwards, before swinging with the ParaClubban club, feeling the force and hearing the heavy clang as Alm responded in kind with his spiked mace. Tubba grunted in unison with his opponent as they sprang away, before connecting their clubs again, this time for three quick blows before they held the deadlock again. Suddenly, Alm’s weight was battered backwards. “No, he would never leave a friend, Alm!” Kremstag snarled, back on his feet and baring his teeth at the Kremling King. “Like your father would have done for me. I am the leader, not you!” Kremstag heaved forward, connecting with his right fist in the belly of Alm, before swinging around and catching the son of his friend with his tail around the jaw, sending Alm’s head recoiling. Tubba moved forward to help, but he realized it was already over: Kremstag battered Alm one last time, knocking him to the railing of the ship, before grunting in satisfaction. “Goodbye, ALM!” He shouted the name, before swinging upward with his mace, sending Alm over the railing with a fleshy connection. Seconds passed before the sound of a heavy splash was heard in the water. “Kremlings!” Kremstag raised a brown scaled hand to the sky, the claws glinting purple as the sky darkened. On the deck below, the fight among the Kritters ceased. “Alm has been defeated. I am the true successor to Rool!” A cacophony of cheering erupted, plunging Tubba into a deep state of longing. Would reclaiming the Clubba Kingdom be as well received? “Roaghis!” Kremstag called to the green Kritter, who was battered and bleeding, but clearly undefeated. “Status report?” As the Kritter replied, Tubba felt a tapping on his shoulder. Dibby floated beside him, clearly distressed. “Tubba, there’s something you need to see.” His heart sinking, Tubba followed the Boo Guy down the stairs onto the deck, swerving through the cheering Kritters. The Kritters had organized the dead at the stern of the ship, where Tubba saw a familiar, red shape. “Oh, Damarus.” Tubba realized, feeling sorrow grip him. “He was a good friend.” “No, not that.” Dibby sighed, sounding as if she didn’t want to be there. “Look beyond him.” She pointed with her silvery arm, and Tubba saw what she was so upset about. A few paces from the dead, the injured were being tended to. His dark orange eyes flickering, staring up at the sky, his dark blue scales drenched with blood, many torn out and lying limply by his side. “Gonzales!” Tubba shouted, racing to his friend’s side. “Gonzales, no!” The Kritter doctor, a smaller, blue-scaled one took a step aside, grunting as Tubba landed heavily at Gonzales’ side. “Why aren’t you doing anything?” Tubba snapped at the doctor, who sighed and bent his head. Tubba knew what that meant. “Gonzales, you Cloansar-forsaken idiot!” Tubba snapped, looking down at his friend’s eyes. “You can’t die on me! You’re going to be my Commander of the Armies when we take back the Kingdom!” Gonzales chuckled weakly. “Tubba, I know what you did. I’m already on borrowed time, aren’t I?” His orange eyes challenged Tubba to admit what he had done in the Star Shrine to save Gonzales’ life. “Get Juranils, please...” Gonzales snatched for breath and coughed. “Why Juranils?” Tubba asked, confused. Surely, if Gonzales wanted anyone by his side when he... passed on, it would be Tubba? But Dibby was already acting on the dying Clubba’s orders - within seconds, Juranils, tucking her wings under her snout with sadness, had appeared on Gonzales’ other side. Gonzales snorted. “Tubba, I swear... you’re out of it. Try not to be this oblivious when you’re King, alright?” He weakly looked over to Juranils. “Juranils, I know that it’s perhaps not advisable that we got together so quickly, but... I love you.” Tubba felt like he was hit by a ton of bricks. Gonzales loved Juranils, and he had been completely unaware of it? Just when Tubba thought he couldn’t feel more surprise, Juranils snapped, her voice tight with pain: “You can’t die now! Our child needs both it’s parents!” “What!?” Tubba couldn’t stay silent any longer. They were expecting a child? He knew Clubba pregnancies were relatively quick, only twenty weeks, but Gonzales and Juranils had only known each other for just over two weeks. “I knew I was on borrowed time, Tubba,” Gonzales sighed, his eyelids closing before he forced them open. “I can hear them calling for me. I needed to... have someone survive me. Tubba, you’ll be the godfather to this child, won’t you?” “Me?” Shock flashed through Tubba. He was Gonzales’ best friend, sure... but fatherhood was never something he had ever thought about, much less godfatherhood. Tubba had always expected that Gonzales would be by his side. “But...” Tubba couldn’t refuse a dying Clubba his last wish. “Of course, old friend,” he sighed, feeling as if his chest was tearing in two. “Thanks.” Gonzales sighed, before he gave one last convulsion, his orange eyes fading, looking glassily up at the black night sky. Gonzales had died with the sun. Tubba had evaded one of the principles of being a Clubba last time... but he knew it was over. His best friend was gone. Kremstag agreed to send two ships of Kritters with them to Gusty Gulch as repayment for helping him take control of the Kremling Islands. But the orange eyes of his friend haunted him, that he had lost him in a battle that was unnecessary. As the Clubba Cliff and Gusty Gulch came into sight, Tubba saw his home, and home of Gonzales. The time had come. Gusty Gulch would be his once more. The King was home.